


Thoughts

by splamilton



Category: Be More Chill
Genre: F/F, M/M, im so sorry im taunting all of you expensive headphones shippers, richjake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splamilton/pseuds/splamilton
Summary: It was in that moment that he realised that he wasn't alone anymore.





	Thoughts

_'Ow.'_ was the first thing Rich thought when he woke up. _'Fucking shit that hurts.'_ Was the next.

The next thing he thought was _'What the fuck?'_ when he saw the tubes connecting him to an oxygen bag. Then he saw the scars. The scars etched into his skin, reminding him of what happened. The scars that, he knew from the moment he saw them, would taunt him forever.

He expected a shock. One that would make him stand up straighter, make him open his eyes up more, make him smile. It never came.  
He expected the voice in his head telling him _'No Richard, that's wrong.'_ and _'Do that Richard, not that.'_ It wasn't there anymore. All that was left was the occasional glitch.

He sat up. That was all he could do, lying in a hospital bed with no TV nearby, or phone. He blinked. It became apparent that no, the fire wasn't a dream.

 _'Oh fuck, what did I do?'_ Was the last distinguishable thought that popped into his head. Then, they became a blur. _'How much damage did I do?' 'Is everyone ok?' 'IS JAKE OK?'_

"Oh my god, Rich is awake!" The voice broke him out of his approaching anxiety attack. Turning his heavily bandaged head around, (which he realised was a bad idea after feeling the pain from his settling scars, and the fact that there were so many bandages that he could barely move) Rich realised that it was Jeremy Heere's friend... he couldn't remember the kid's name, who was standing in the doorway.

"Hello? Rich? RICH?" The boy said as he ran over to him, flailing his arms infront of Rich's face.

Rich came to his senses and glared at the boy, due to the slight problem that his arms were so bandaged that he couldn't slap the kid's arms away. "WHAT?!"

The boy rolled his eyes. There was a distinct pause as the boy silently scanned him. He then sighed. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

"No fucking clue."

Another slightly sad sigh. "Michael Mell. Jeremy's best friend."

"Nithe to meet you." Rich said, attempting to reach out and shake his hand but then remembering his injuries. _'Oh shit.'_  It had come back to him. _'Oh holy fucking shit shrine.'_

"You-"  
_'Oh, don't fucking do this.'_  
"Have a lisp?"

Rich closed his eyes in exasperation. He had forgotten about that.

"No, I jutht like thaying eth'th like that." He grunted, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"Jeez, dude, stop getting so defensive." Michael raised his eyebrows, put his hands up and stepped back in defeat.

"Jutht don't... talk about it. Ok?" Rich stared Michael in the eye, almost threatening him to keep going.

"Sure bro." Michael replied casually, probably not even noticing the baleful glance.  
"So..." Michael looked down, not wanting to ask the question that was lingering on his tongue, "why'd you do what you did?" He inquired tentatively.

"Don't," was the answer, that had been barked out far too quickly for Rich's liking. The thing was, he wasn't even sure himself.

\--- a month later --

The TV was on. Rich had been moved to a more open room when the doctor's found out that he was awake. They had told him that he was "Lucky to be alive," and that they thought he was dead. He almost wished that were true.

He wasn't paying attention the screen. Lights flickered from it onto the bromidic, white wall as some inaudible noise hummed in the background. Rich had no idea what the yelling woman was angry about, nor did he really care. He didn't care about much these days.

Most of his friends had come to see him. He had found out, over the past month, that they were real friends.  
He and Christine had become fast friends, geeking over the newest Broadway musicals. He had discovered that he had a certain soft spot for musical theatre.  
Chloe was one of his closest friends, which was a surprise to both of the two. They had never really liked each other before, by association. She was his best friend's ex, he was her ex's best friend. However, it had all been resolved and she had helped him to paint his nails (which was double as difficult, because they had to convince the doctors that no, Dr. Beck, it's not secretly alcohol and no, Dr. Duke, we're not going to stain the bedsheets) and he helped her through her Physics homework, which he had always had an affinity for.  
Brooke was forever kind, constantly telling him that he's not a crusty nerd that deserves to be in the gutter.  
Jenna was constantly filling him in with the latest gossip (which he didn't care much about but he humoured her anyway) and never failed to make him laugh with her own, slightly untrue, details.  
Rich could share experiences with Jeremy, about Squips. They were each others' support for things they knew no one else would understand.  
Michael wasn't any shoulder to cry on, but he was a great person to have a laugh with. There was nothing specific they had in common, but they were the comedic relief in the time that everyone needed it.

There was only one person that wasn't there. Everyone knew it, but no one said a thing. It would just make their absence more prominent.

_'Where are you, Jake? Why haven't you come by?'_

It was a thought that ran through Rich's head everyday. That day, it was one of the only thoughts that was there.

_'Do you hate me? I know I deserve it but I need to see you. Will you hate me even more if you see the mess I really am? Will you ever forgive me?'_

His face was ever there in Rich's mind. Every time he laughed, every time he broke down. Jake was constantly haunting him.

\--- two months later ---

He was being let out soon. At least, that's what he had overheard when he passed their table. All of them seemed so happy, so overjoyed. So... why wasn't he?

Jake distanced himself as much as he could. He had tried to stick to normal life. To pretend that it never happened, to pretend that people like Jeremy, Christine, Chloe and Rich had never existed. It was just Jake Dillinger against the world, and he was fine with that. Of course, he wasn't.  
He wanted nothing but to be sitting there with them, celebrating the fact that his best frie- _ex_ best friend was almost back from hospital. He had to keep reminding himself that Rich was his _ex_ best friend. He had incinerated his entire house, for god's sake! But as hard as he tried, he couldn't be mad. Rich's face kept popping up into his head. It wouldn't go. Whenever he pretended to laugh with his popular friends, at something that wasn't even funny, he would start to reminisce the times when that laugh wasn't fake, when he would be cackling like a witch at something stupid Rich had said. Then he'd mentally slap himself for being stupid, and go back to daily life.

He wished it would be different. He wished he could muster up the courage to just go to the damn hospital. But he was too scared.

 _'Jake Dillinger, scared?' A voice he knew all too well said in his head. 'Now that doesn't sound the Jakey-D I know! C'mon bro, go get 'em!'_ Rich's words from his first football game as captain echoed in his ears.  
They were fake. That wasn't Rich. That was his Squip. He had never even known Rich. At least, that's what a tiny, vexatious voice kept whispering, murmuring, every single time he was close to getting in his car and driving straight up to the hospital. But Jake knew. Jake knew that the real Rich was always there, that he did know the real Rich. He had to have known him, because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.

\---

He was going to do it. Definitely. He just needed to... figure out how to not fuck up.

 _'God, this is much harder than I thought it would be.'_ He thought.  
_'Let's_ _just_ _fucking_ _do_ _it.'_

And so Jake Dillinger cracked open the stiff, hospital door with his crutch, and saw him. He saw Richard Goranski, sitting on his creaky, $50 hospital mattress playing Mario Kart with Michael Mell. His grin was wider than Jake had ever seen it, and his hair was pushed back with sweat. He looked almost... hot. Jake then swiftly drew his crutch back, closing the door.

He took a deep breath. _'I can't fucking do this. I should just... leave forever.'_ He peered through the window of the door. Could he break such a happy, serene moment? Could he fucking buck up enough to do this?  
_'Yeah I fucking can!'_ Jake thought, and so he slammed open the door with his crutch.

\---

"I'll fucking beat your ath, Michael!" Rich yelled as he revved his engine.  
"Fucking try me hoe," Michael challenged. They flashed each other grins as the race began. They were abruptly stopped however, when the ward's door was slammed open, possibly scuffing the plain walls behind. The pair jumped in surprise, and swivelled their heads around until they could've been likened to owls. Standing in the doorway, with a nervous smile on his face, was the last person they could've expected.

Silence. For almost a solid minute, there was silence.

Then, it was broken. "Jake?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the actual shitty-mess of this, it was intended to be a chapter fic but I'm lazy so I couldn't be bothered to write more, and I thought it would be kinda mean if I just left you all hanging. 
> 
> So... I hope you enjoyed this barely functioning fic?? Hit me up on my tumblr @splamilton and ask me shit and give me prompts for things like Be More Chill, Falsettos, Book of Mormon, Dear Evan Hansen, Heroes of Olympus, Harry Potter and more


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